After the meltdown, the area was sealed under a slab of concrete 10 feet thick. They caught the terrorist, but the damage was done. Nothing could never be recovered. The community scattered. Those who found refuge, resettled. The rest drifted.
I'm a drifter, though I never moved on. Moving on is leaving it behind and starting something new. I've been everywhere but I haven't moved. My heart is buried under this 10 foot slab trying to recover something--anything. I have been here too long.
Time to start digging out. Maybe this was place wasn't what I needed. Maybe the meltdown was a good thing. Maybe I shouldn't be looking for what is gone and seek what has never left. Everything happens for a reason, especially if it happens to you. If the universe speaks, I should listen.
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